AZ Oneshots
by Taggedy
Summary: A selection of England centric oneshots, from A-Z. Scared - But they don't say a word. This is a new generation. They don't need to know the truth of how the world used to be. Includes crossovers, fruk, usuk, spainxeng, irelandxeng triangles Bess etc


A-Z Random Word One-Shots – England Centric

Alone

Its late when he returns from his meetings of the day. He shuffles in, brief case in hand and heads straight towards the kitchen to brew some tea. As he sits at the table while waiting for the water to boil, drumming his fingers on the table he looks up to the portraits up on the wall. Him with his colonies. He spies the one with him and China cradling a young Hong Kong, the one where he and Australia are kicking a football around the back garden, one with him and his brothers among many others. His face falls into a nostalgic smile as he thinks about how his house used to be filled with numerous colonies and nations. He stands to finish his tea and as he leaves the room, switching the kitchen light off, he cant help but feel that perhaps being alone in his splendid isolation isn't so grand.

Breathless (Fruk)

Francis finds it hard to catch his breath. He cant help but think that its nothing to do with his running up the stairs but the sight before him. He'd once again been late for dinner with his Petit Mathieu and Cher Angleterre, but a meeting with Antonio had lead to the two going for a drink or two to catch up, needless to say dinner plans had slipped his mind. He knew Arthur would be furious and so when he'd arrived to a darkened house, he'd feared the worse and bolted up the stairs. The sight that met him softened his heart. Lying in the master bedroom were his two dearest people, Mathieu tucked in Arthur's arms as they slumbered in the soft light of the oil lamp on the bed, cuddled up. It made him despair for the next morning. When Arthur would leave to stay with America, who had decided he didn't like to stay with Francis, but was jealously possessive of his brother and Arthur . He sighed and prepared to slip in the bed beside them. He couldn't expect Arthur not to visit his colonies, he cared too much.

Crazy (Civil War)

The war of roses was a strain on the mentality of the embodiment of England. Even the sickness brought on by the death of people wasn't as bad. He couldn't understand why his people would want to kill each other, there was nothing he could do, no side he could pick, no enemy he could face as this threat came from within. He house was cold and barren and the night dark.

When he was found by Francis in his garden, the roses he usually grew had been savagely pulled from there beds to form a pile, from which Arthur, hand in bloody ribbons, was feeding them into the flames of the pyre he'd created, silent tears running down his face. Francis turned and fled before his presence was noticed.

Today was _not_ a good day to tease England.

Diana

Arthur stood at the head of the meeting making his speech when the messenger burst in, England's secretary to be exact. Everyone's head shot round to watch the man who was usually so carefully polite scramble toward Arthur almost losing his footing. He urgently whispered in the bemused looking Arthur's ear. The nations watched as the colour drained from the Britons face, eyes widening.

'this is not a joke?'

the words passed Arthur's lips as a hoarse command, and at the head shake he received in response he bolted to the door, leaving his briefcase and protesting secretary behind. It was Germany who demanded an explanation.

'Lady Diana is Dead'

Earnest (North American Twins)

Arthur remembers when Alfred and Matthew where still children. He remember how when he would stay with Alfred and if Francis was away he would take Matthew with him. He remembers taking the pair and sit them on his knee in the warm spring and tell them tales from his home, how Alfred would demand for tales of knights and heroes he's heard so many times before and Matthew would agree, if only to keep his brother happy and listen to his fathers voice while papa was away. So he would immerse himself in the telling of king Arthur's magical adventure and how he was brave and heroic. But most of all he remembers the earnest look on Alfred's face as he proclaims.

'One day I'll be the Hero, I'll Protect you both from the bad guys'

Fixed (Angst)

Trust was a funny thing for nations, its something they can never fully have in each other and this is something that stops them getting too close to each other, its something that has hurt the embodiments of many nations, the betrayal of trust that isn't even the embodiments choice at times was painful for both sides. Trust is something they try to overlook as repairs are made to relationships, but like cracks in the glass the reminder is always there, never fully gone.

Glow (WWII – Could Be Seen As Pre-Bombing Of Britain)

Its the light from the flames on his face that gives it a ghastly glow as he stands on one of the structurally sound buildings, one of two for miles. He looks over the destruction of his heart, indifferent to his injuries, not bothering to stem the sluggish trails of blood coming from his numerous wounds. His shirt sticking to the bloody wounds on his chest, back and stomach. It seems eerily silent, he thinks, compared to the desperate screams and shouts from merely an hour ago. Night had fallen and yet his people hadn't been deterred from coming together to rescue those trapped, and even though he can only see these few people where he stands in London, he knows that around the country, where the bombs have dropped, everyone's doing the same. Liverpool, Dover and everywhere else, his people are coming together to help not only family and friends, but strangers too and he knows his people are strong and proud, and he's furious at Germany for even trying to quash them. He vows as he stands there that Germany will pay for this, he won't win this war, Arthur won't let him. As he walks down the street to Canada's place he vows that if he has to he will die trying to stop that German bastard who has underestimated him and his people direly.

Holiday (FACE Family)

In the end it was Matthew who persuaded him to go. Arthur's day had started when he woke up face to face with a certain Frenchman. He let out a manly yelp (not a high pitched scream despite what the other claimed) and kicked the other off the bed. The frog whined about how he only wants to express L'amour and tell him that their _family _was going away for the holiday. Needless to say he was promptly kicked out of Arthur's house with a 'Piss off'. Alfred's attempt at persuasion wasn't much better, quite frankly escaping from his attempt was too easy to be considered fun, only annoying. Matthew however simply knocked on the door, made them some tea and asked. Arthur who was still inclined to say no due to the other two was halted when Matthew explained how it had been his idea they all go camping for the weekend, due to the fact for the first time in years they all had time off together. Arthur was always a soft touch to his '_children_', so he heaved a long suffering sigh and agreed, only to be hugged by Matthew. He couldn't help to soft smile that ,made its way to his lips.

Intoxicated (Ireland x England)

The gentle fuzz of the whiskey has wrapped itself around his mind and he finds himself with his tongue loosened. This is all Sean's fault he thinks, he doesn't realise this thoughts been vocalised until said nation turns to look at him. His own glass of whiskey in hand as he pours Arthur another.

'What's my fault?' Arthur thinks its funny that he, even when drunk, can still understand Sean's accent perfectly, even when a lot of the other nations cant do it sober. He shoots the accusation of getting him drunk. The accused simply laughs causing Arthur to frown, in turn making Sean laugh more. 'I've missed this you know' Arthur, as drunk as he is can here the genuine tone and smiles and tells him he didn't have to leave. Sean smiles 'I hated you back then you know, I'd stopped loving you and it hurt. I had to leave'. England simply nods at the admittance that had never been given air to be heard, he leans over and kisses him on the cheek. 'at least now we can fix our relationship' Sean smiles toasting their glasses together in honour of a conversation that they will deny ever existed to anyone else.

Jolt (? x England)

The panic starts at the centre of his chest, surrounding his heart, and builds with each distressing image passing through his head, of wars, conflicts and unnumbered deaths. Each lay heavy in his heart. The bubble of panic eventually bursts, too much to cope with, and jumps to his every particle. He jolts awake, his breathing laboured and face wet, with sweat or tears? He doesn't know. It the gentle grip on his wrist that brings him back from the horrors. He turns and looks into concerned eyes and knows he's all right. Their in a time of peace. But for How Long.

Kind-heartedness (Colonies)

Children was something Arthur had always loved, they represented a promise of new life and innocence to him. Something he was not with his many years and bloodstained hands. As he raised each of these colonies, ensuring that they had a proper loving upbringing that he had missed out on after being taken from his brothers by Rome. He provided for them, which often lead to him being absent for large periods of time, but for him it was a small price to pay. But most of all he protected them from the outer world where he could. Keeping other stronger nations away. He's glad to sacrifice what he must for his children when he sees how Alfred helps Matthew who's fell over and cut his knee, when he literally falls asleep standing in Australia's house and wakes up to find a blanket around his shoulders and Australia and New Zealand sleeping at his side and he sees it when working on papers for hours and hours and Hong Kong, still a child brings him an attempt at tea. He smiles because he thinks if he can raise these children to be kind-hearted then the world can become a better place.

Lace (England x Elizabeth)

In the top left hand of Arthur's desk is filled with paper, notepads and an assortment of other stationary as anyone who had rooted around looking for interesting memorabilia of other eras (something Arthur's house was full of). The rooter would usually shut the drawer and move on. Nobody knew however of the small hidden compartment that contained two things a ring, that Arthur sometimes in the solitude of an evening whiskey in his often slipped back on his finger and played with. This ring was wrapped in a delicate lacy handkerchief, yellowed now from age but no more damaged than the day shed given it to him. This compartment hid the harsh reminder of the relationship he'd had with her, marrying her, breaking the rules about human-nation relations . The reminder of learning why as she, like humans do, died.

It was the reminder of Elizabeth whom he had loved dearly and who had loved him too.

Music (Bad Brothers Trio)

The thrum of bass, the shrill of guitars and shout of a harsh male voice. Surrounded by unfamiliar bodies dancing, bumping violently into each other. From where he was dancing he could see Gilbert screaming wildly along with the song, shaking his fists in direction of the stage and could feel Mathias somewhere behind him dancing wildly. The three of them grinned wildly at each other as the next song came on throwing their arms around each others shoulders and sang along, jumping around wildly. The next day Mathias and Arthur would turn up to the world meeting absolutely exhausted, yet grinning at each other and quoting song lyrics to each other.

Names (High School AU – Spain x England slight Fruk)

Gilbert told him it was wrong. 'Dude Francis is totally into him, your so not awesome'. Antonio of course disagreed with his albino friend, 'Arturo doesn't like him though' he almost sang, Gilbert huffed unable to disagree as they watched their French companion being punched by the Brit. Said Brit stalked away passing the pair as he did, Antonio grinning like an idiot (in Gilbert's opinion). 'what the hell are you smiling like that for?' he spat defensively. 'Nothing Arturo' the Spaniard practically purred, Arthur flushing a bright red, crossing his arms huffing and glaring, not quite meeting Antonio's eyes. 'Shut the hell up Anthony. And tell your twat of a friend to leave me alone.' Arthur smirked before huffing off, leaving the two to deal with Francis. 'See Gilbert~ I can make him look like a cute tomato~' the Prussian simply sighed, shaking his head at his idiot friend, moving to move his other idiotic friend, why the hell was he surrounded by idiots, it was so unawesome.

Obstruction (FrUkUs)

It was a game they'd been playing for years, the only rule was Arthur couldn't know.

The two nations competed for the affections of the big browed Brit who still remained oblivious to this game of sorts. 'Artie, Heyy Artie! Wanna go get a burger after the meeting?' Alfred shouted as he saw the tufts of messy hair, as he got closer his eyes narrowed as they lay on a certain frog. 'Oh I'm afraid Arthur is coming to a café with me Mon Ami.' the two glared at each other quickly before Arthur rose his head from where he was organising his papers. 'I don't even like burgers you git.' he admonished good naturedly, 'we can catch up some other time okay Alfred? How about you come over a day early next time the meetings are in London?' Alfred watched Francis face out of the corner of his eye. Throwing his arms around the Brit he shot a smug look at the self proclaimed nation of love. 'Sure thing Iggy!' Francis coughed pulling the Brit away 'Well we must be off, Adieu' the Frenchman all but hissed placing his arm around a spluttering Arthur's waist.

That was their game, getting in the others way, prevent them having the chance of taking what was theirs.

Precipitation

.Patter

Arthur sat at window side watching as the rain stuck the glass before him, little drops lingering, before gravity took hold and they rolled down the pane. Arthur love the rain. The forever constant, always there within him. It cleaned the blood from smiling fingertips within wars won, it accompanied the tears down his face at life lost in wars lost and most importantly it served as a reminder of his life at the beginning and the ferocious simplicity of it all. He peered down the dark halls. No one else was home. He grinned, rising to his feet and walked barefoot out into the savaged rain outside.

Arthur _loved_ rain because it was so similar to him.

Quidditch (Harry Potter AU)

Emerald glared into sapphire as the two captains shook hands the cheers and jeers melding into one. 'Ready Kirkland?' Jones jeered a cocky smirk on his face, a smirk that offended Kirkland just by looking at it, their grips simultaneously tightened. 'More ready than you'll ever be Jones. He could hear the appraising sounds from his fellow team members behind him. 'There's no way the hero is going to let Slytherin win this. Heroes don't let the bad guys win.' Kirkland scowls 'what makes you think things a re so black and white?' he asks giving Jones an appraising look before turning back to Bonnefoy, Branginski and his other team mates 'Griffindor's can be so stupid'

Reading (USUK)

The pages rustled in the half dark as they fell from almost feminine fingertips. The leather bound novel fell the short distance from the arm overhanging the bed to the carpeted ground with a small thump. He'd waited up again. This was the only thought that could pass through the blondes mind as his lips fell into a fond smile. He approached the sleeping nation and pulled the knitted blanket from the end of the bed over to cover him. He ran a large hand through messy locks. The old man claimed not to care, yet here he was passed out from waiting for his arrival. Alfred grinned, he'd tease him about the this that made his heart warm. He lifted the novel from the floor, looking in to find the works of Shakespeare. He chuckled placing the tome of a book on the bedside table, before turning out the light and crawling onto the bed, taking the smaller nation in arms. He loved the simple moments like this, when he could see Arthur so unguarded and relaxed. Laying a kiss on his forehead he lay back and let unconsciousness claim him,

Scared (The three empires – England, Spain and France)

England listens with a smile when America tells the other nations how England created his fear of all things supernatural when young. He sits between France and Spain who also look complacent at the tale, despite Americas horror at their indifference. Spain chuckles when Romano regales the others with tales of how Spain used to make him clean his house, how his brother had done the same for Austria, Romano has no patient when no sympathy is given by France or England. France looks nostalgic as Canada tells the gathering of young nations how France used to leave him for weeks at a time in a big empty house with only servants to care for him, he doesn't bother looking to the other two Europeans knowing they'd done the same to many a colony, the two are however nodding in understanding. The three elders sit and listen to the complaints with no fuss, although if any of them where to look closer they'd notice the slight shake of Frances hand, the way Spain's smile is tight at the edges and the way England's eyes have hardened to dark emeralds. The three of them remember times when fear was unfamiliar ships approaching your shores and dark strangers shackling you to take away, your people, your monarch being killed before your eyes. They remember servitude being a constant thing that only ended when you passed out from tiredness or loss of blood from the beatings. They remember the dire wishes to be left alone in their lands, for that peace of mind that they could do what they could to help their people, and the times where loneliness drove them to madness from being chained in dank, dark dungeons. But they don't say a word. This is a new generation. They don't need to know the truth of how the world used to be.

Throttling (Hillsborough disaster)

Through out his years Arthur has experienced choking many times, he's both been throttled and done the throttling. Sometimes he feels the phantom of fingers and ropes around his neck, and those like him, who have experienced the throttling, notice the way his hands rise to massage his throat in assurance, because they do it too.

Its a shock, he thinks, after all his centuries to experience this new choking sensation. He collapses to the floor, backing away from the nations who have rose in concern or curiosity. Somewhere deep in his mind he knows they want to help, but that part is over powered by the sheer panic and choking. He thinks he feels his ribs crack and splinter under some imaginary pressure. His throat is on fire from the ragged attempts at breathe. He sees shadows of faces that have loomed over him in the past in this situation. Choking him. He remembers clearly as the buzzing commotion of the meeting room begins to fade away, the sound of his glorious queen in his piracy days, commanding he be hung. And he cant help but think, as his consciousness begins to fade to black, that perhaps he'd prefer the familiarity of those robes choking his life's breath from him.

**Hillsborough Disaster occurred on 15th of April 1989, 96 people where killed, a further 766 injured. These people where literally crushed to death.**

Unsurprising (Family)

Its unsurprising, he thinks, as he watches Wales and Scotland enter and stand over the dozing Arthur. Even Francis from where he's stood (he'd vacated his seat quickly when he head Scotland was coming) could see the bruises under his eyes, marking his sleepless nights. He sees them whispering between themselves, and notices Ireland looking longingly, as though wanting to be a part of their concern for his Ex-wife. Well that was interesting. He edges closer under the pretence of harassing Japan, who Francis notices is also inconspicuously listening in. '...North said he hadn't slept at all the past few nights, 'cept when he falls asleep at the desk.' Wales mutters, Scotland's face softens by the barest of degrees, and France is shocked. 'We should get the Idjit home then... Barricade 'im in his room like old times.' Wales chuckles 'What about Germany? The meeting?' Scotland laughs loudly, more nations look over. 'Fuck 'im' he then proceeds to take his younger brother from his chair into his arms. Arthur unconsciously curling into the heat mumbling. He then turns and leaves abruptly, ignoring all protests. Wales gives Ireland a strange look as he leaves, one that is neither cruel nor inviting, just evaluating. '_Don't_ start with North.' he says plainly and cryptically. Its plain to see the ebony haired man understands as he frowns looking away from the Welshman. Wales simply sighs and leaves in the wake of his brothers.

Vorpal (Alice in wonderland AU – Fruk and squint for Usuk)

Francis is frowning. Not very gentlemanly of him, he agrees. But today had become such a strange day. First he falls through some hole that takes him further from the garden party than he had expected to some alternate world that the beings who resided here called 'wonderland'. He himself cant really see what's so wondrous, its more nightmarish he thinks as he looks at the blackened foliage and bloodied streams. Next he was sure he'd met with the most irritating guides possible. A short scatter-brained man with an obsession with pasta that was only rivalled by his obsession with the rabbit who also travelled with them, the rabbit himself seemed quite flustered by his outbursts. The short mans twin wasn't as dense, which was no saving grace when one considered his atrocious temper. The answer to any questions asked was 'we're taking you to see the hatter Alice.' That was something else, no matter how many times he corrected them, they insisted he was this Alice. He huffed and dusted down his powder blue shirt, they were approaching some sort of clearing and his three companions had quietened. As the clearing opened he noticed how the dying grass faded into a black charred remains, the trees and old house looked as they'd been given a similar treatment. Francis repressed a shudder. It the centre of the clearing was a long white table where more creatures where sat busying themselves with teacups and low, hurried conversation. As they got closer a figure from the top of the table turned to face them, acidic green eyes peering out from under the shadow of his top hat. He stood a large grin suddenly on his previously blank face. 'Alice its you!' Francis was frozen, he liked this hatter, honhonhon, he was _very cute_. He was sad to see him look away when what appeared to be a dormouse started shouting from the table 'He's not Alice!' the hatter patted the mouse on his head 'of course he is, I'd know him anywhere' he turned back as conversation around the table grew louder. They sat at the table, people explaining the atrocities the bloody red queen had committed. As a hush fell over the group the hatter rose (Francis taking the opportunity to ogle his arse, receiving a sharp stab from a glaring dormouse for his troubles). His eyes had darkened but when he spoke of Alice being their last hope the light returned. Francis thought perhaps he could be Alice as long as that light remained when he looked at him.

Wax (battle of the Somme)

Arthur sits in the darkness of him bunker, the only light coming from a lone candle sitting on the desk before him. He's tapping a pencil on the scrap of paper he has before him, contemplating what to write. He wasn't sure whether it was the fact all of his men where writing that he had the urge, or whether it was solely him who wanted the comfort writing would gain. He was writing to Alfred, who should have been here but was still at home safe from the fields of France within his neutrality. The sound of Vera Lynn crooning from the gramophone in the corner, hidden in the shadows doing little to cover the crashes of bombs outside. Matthew had left him in solitude to tell his men they would be at the back line tomorrow. Tomorrow when Arthur and his men went over the top, something about the orders felt wrong even though he had long anticipated this with the lines being cut. It was funny, he had this compelling force to write but had know idea what words to write, before chuckling to himself, that git didn't deserve a proper letter, if he wanted to talk he'd be here. His usually neat penmanship reduced to as a scrawl as he wrote.

_Alfred,_

_We go over the top tomorrow. By the time you get this I'll have been, making this letter a bloody waste of time. Conditions are awful, its not just bullets and bombs killing my boys now. You should be here, not that you care. But I suppose I'm glad I haven't got another person I have to worry about, not that I'd worry about you, twat._

_Arthur_

He lifted his flask of whiskey to his lips, war times made tea unpalatable to him, the burn comforting to his nerves. He placed the letter in the envelope, knocking the candle as he did. Hissing to himself he righted it and attempted to wipe the red was that marred once pristine white. He left the letter where the boy who collected the letters home would find it, and turned and decided to try for some sleep, even though he knew war borne insomnia combined with the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach would keep him up. 7:31 the next day he realised where the feeling came from. Hysterical laughter bubbled in his throat as he thought of the letter sitting in his bunk, and how irrelevant it all seemed now.

**Battle of the Somme 1 July 1916, all in all by the end British forces lost 350,000+ lives that day. Approximately 58,000 where lost on the first day alone.**

X Marks The Spot (Bad touch trio + Arthur)

It had of course been Americas idea. Tensions in the meeting room had been building over the last few days of the 2 week conference, coming to mount when Turkey and Greece had got into a full blown fist fight over who sat beside Japan. After being broken up America made the "heroic" suggestion that the next day they a have a day playing team building tasks. Germany eager to try anything to stop these pointless disruptions agreed.

This found the nations split into teams, armed with a map to find the 'treasure'.

'This map is bloody wrong' an irate Arthur snapped turning to the French man who had formerly complaining about taking too long, his patience near on gone having been placed on a team with Francis, Antonio and Gilbert, the self proclaimed bad touch trio. 'Per'aps those un godly brows of yours are blocking your eyes, oui?' Francis snatched the map, Antonio (who had also been helping figure out where they where going) and Arthur sharing a look. 'Fine frog. I give up. Relinquish my hold of the map over to you.' he crossed his arms stubbornly, smirking when Francis face morphed into a look of confusion. Francis soon gave up like Antonio and Arthur before him, flopping on the ground beside them. 'This is totally Un-awesome!' Prussia whined looking at the map himself, too awesome to take longer than 5 minutes, so he said. 'Come on, did you really expect Alfred to know enough about Frances land to make a map?' Prussia suddenly grinned and began digging around his rucksack. 'I suppose there's nothing for it then.' and with that Prussia handed out bottles of beer to the cheer of his team. 'to teamwork' they toasted laughing all the while.

Yawn (Young Hong Kong)

A small tug at his sleeve pulled Arthur's attention from the paperwork before him. He looked to to see Hong Kong rubbing at his eyes with a small fist, the other hand carrying a book. 'Ah, cant sleep?' Hong Kong simply shook his head and Arthur lifted the young lad to his lap. The reading of the small book took a good half an hour and Arthur himself had began to yawn, a wish for sleep catching up with him. He looked down at the small form of a sleeping Hong and began to walk towards the young lads room. As he bent over to lay him in his bed a small fist darted out and took a firm grip of his shirt. He couldn't help but sigh an soft smile on his face as he moved back to his desk. If he couldn't go to bed he might as well stay up. So cradling Hong Kong in his arms, he continued to work at the fire side, unable to be angry at the child.

Zebra

Emerald eyes stared into beady black. Bushy brows rising as the creature tilted his head.

'Africa... What's this?' it was always exhilarating for Arthur to run into something he hadn't seen before on his travels. It made him feel young and energized and he always enjoyed listening to his colonies natter on about something that he hadn't seen before, they always felt proud knowing something he didn't and he rather enjoyed seeing the joy on their small faces.

Authors Notes

Well using some suggestions from friends and a random word generator I've made some one shots. Enjoy.  
Pairings included - Fruk, Usuk, SpainxEngland, IrelandxEngland, FrUkUs, EnglandxElizabeth.

Warning about violence and slight gore, maybe.

I wanted to include rarer pairings, a wider selection but didn't quite get around to it... Sorry maybe next time?

Info  
Alone - Arthur after everyone's moved out and left him. So Lonely.  
Breathless - I can see Francis being a bit resentful of Alfred for always taking Arthur away from their family with Matt, causing Matt to be ignored. And forgetting to come home when running into a friend is something I can really see him doing.  
Crazy - Civil wars are something I see sending nation batty and burning his national flowers so he didn't have to chose is an image I've had in my head for a while.  
Diana - The whole nation went into mourning when Diana died, she was the peoples princess.  
Earnest - Come on, everyone knows America gets his hero complex from Arthur. And I can see Matthew being a really compliant child.  
Fixed - I can imagine all the nations having trust issues, being alive that long has gotta have an effect on that.  
Glow - Could be a prequel to my other story Bombing Of Britain.  
Holiday - Matthew asks for nothing, you know he could get Arthur to cave in.  
Intoxicated - to be fair I don't see Ireland as being Arthur's brother, but just being brought up with the others... Northern Island being their child.  
Jolt - Nightmares, nations have to have them. Enough said.  
Kind-heartedness - I can see Arthur doing what ever he can for his colonies to keep them un-marred by the real world.  
Lace - A reminder of Queen Bess.  
Music - I Love The Bad Brothers Trio, they don't get enough love, and I don't give them justice.  
Names - I can really see Spain and England winding each other up by using their languages versions of each others names.  
Obstruction - I love the idea of this triangle, the team Edward and Jacob of Hetalia as its said (Hate the fact I've used a twilight reference -.-')  
Precipitation - Rain is something England's renowned for, of course it symbolises him  
Quidditch - this is something I actually believe, the belief that all Slytherins are evil becomes a sort of self fulfilling prophecy. Not all slytherins are bad.  
Reading- I had to slip USUK in here somewhere, its the one that I have a love/hate relationship with. But their fluff is so cute.  
Scared – this is my favourite. I've got a thing about the younger nations taking what they have for granted, how times have changed and what not. Sort of like today's generation at times.  
Throttling – I liked writing this one too. Hillsborough was horrific, a lot of accusations where thrown about by papers which was unfair. 96 dead, the youngest was 10 I think, the oldest around 70.  
Unsurprising – exploring the UK brothers relationships are fun. As I've said I don't think of Ireland as related (its my love for IrelandxEngland that does this to me I think) but regardless they've been as close as brothers, if that makes sense. Like childhood friends. This is set around the beginnings of Ireland-Northern Ireland conflict … I'm considering a one shot on this, with England intervention and what not.  
Vorpal – Francis as Alice in a darker version of wonderland … I love the idea of Alice in wonderland – Hetalia crossover. Oh and can you spot the microscopic Usuk?  
Wax – WWI Battle of The Somme, Worst British Military loss... enough said. So many died, leaving a lost generation. The worry in anticipation is something I imagine they all feel. War is not pretty. Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks has a good depiction of this battle. Also I can imagine Alfred receiving the letter just before hearing about England being bound to a hospital bed after being torn apart by bullets.  
Yawn – Hong Kong had England wrapped around his little finger. But England's literally one of his parents. Their relationship is sweet.  
Zebra – Z was a really hard one to do so sorry about the random.

Right the info on each isn't as in depth as I'd like, but I don't want the description of the fic being too long (abit late for that I know). So any additional info you want please don't hesitate to ask, I'll try my best to answer.

Thanks For Reading.


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